


Mild tension seconds before we touch

by Venkat



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, BDSM, Fluff, Love, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-07 18:16:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15913653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venkat/pseuds/Venkat
Summary: Alternate universeJulian Devorak is a doctor- neurologist, and MC (Marque Dahl) is his patient- he is suffering from neurophatic pain.





	1. Memorable appointment

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is my first fic, I hope you like it.

Ch. 1

Lately I've been thinking a lot, but it is obviously not a positive thing, since I feel dumber each time I summarize my thoughts, thoughts about the subject I was thinking about. 

And that subject happens to be a person and the thoughts surrounding the subject- the person- aren't your common thoughts about people. 

By common thoughts I mean something like:  
1\. How are they doing?  
2\. I really like the new jacket they got.  
3\. Is their cat okay? 

These kind of normal thoughts. My thoughts aren't normal, I think. Or maybe they are, but I bet they aren't normal at all. 

So yeah aha you see- thinking again, but feeling not so smart about it.

This person I think about a lot. Oh this person. He has no idea, NO IDEA what I think. 

Because if he had, he probably wouldn't be sitting in front of me right now, asking questions. 

Oh how beautiful he is, dark red hair, falling into his left eye (the other one is patched, I've spent more than a few hours thinking about what happened to it, maybe I'll ask him one day, or maybe I'll take that patch off and see myself). 

His eyebrows are THICC- exactly the way I like it. The way I prefer them to be on a person, the angle they arch under suits my esthetic needs perfectly. 

Shape of his chin is on point. Everything is on point. 

I think about tying his wrists with that eyepatch and licking whatever it hides underneath. 

"I am afraid there are no available anti-inflammatory drugs on the market right now that we haven't tried yet.  
We can try to put you back on Motrion, once your body becomes sensitive to it again. But I must express my concerns that such scenario is highly unlikely to happen." 

He says.  
I nod. 

He is a doctor- neurologist, I am a patient. Motrion is a medication commonly used to ease symptoms of Neuropathic pain, which I have. 

I hate pain. I really, really do not like it at all. I like sweet things, pleasant things. Beautiful sensations.  
But instead all I feel is burning in my arms and legs. Instead I feel like my toes are melting and fingers are being pulled from my palms.  
I feel that all the time.  
That's maybe one of the reasons why I think so much. I have to keep my mind busy, otherwise pain will have all my attention, and that kind of attention is, boy oh boy, hard to break. 

"Have you attended to the massage therapy I recommend for you?" he continues after I remain silent. 

"No, I haven't, I don't think it will have any positive affect" I answer. 

He is clearly disappointed. I am sad to see him disappointed. But massage is a no no. 

"I am sorry to hear that" pause "since you have declined any other forms of treatment, the last thing that is left for me to offer you is acupuncture." He looks up at me, awaiting my answer. 

I immediately begin to form a polite refusal, but before I can make a sound, he adds quickly 

"I studied acupuncture for several years in China, though I haven't done it in a while.  
Unfortunately I don't know any acupuncture specialist who specializes in Neuropathic pain, but I can try to search for someone skilled in that sphere." 

Then he quickly grabs his notebook and proceeds to search through- what I assume is- a list of contact numbers. 

"You have done acupuncture in past?" I ask, honestly interested.  
I have always thought that modern school doctors decline pseudo medicine or any other forms of uncommon health practices.  
Acupuncture isn't that pseudo, though, so maybe it's still in the range of treatments accepted by some medical professionals. 

"Yes, but as I said, it's been a few years already, so I don't feel qualified enough to offer you my services." He answers, carefully choosing his words. 

But I push on. 

"Doctor, I was about to decline your offer. There aren't many people I trust with my health issues besides from you- and I believe you are very well aware of that.  
But if it is you who does the acupuncture, I am willing to give it a shot." 

"Mr. Dhal" that's my surname "I have no experience with easing a symptoms of Neuropathic pain by application of acupuncture." 

How shy of him. 

"Then I'll be your first case." I say with a sly smile on my face while nerves in my brain tighten with each passing moment. 

"I'll have to prepare, recall what I know and refill what is needed to safely and - hopefully- effectively treat you." 

YES PLEASE. I am jumping in my mind, all excited, like a kid.  
But what excites me is that I'll get to spend more time with that beautiful doctor, rather than acupuncture itself. 

I haven't had an acupuncture before, needles piercing though my skin sounds painful enough, but I know it's not that bad. It can't be.  
I know it's nothing compared to what I live with daily.  
Plus, massage would probably feel more painful, but I can't tell for sure, fortunately, I lack the experience. 

"Thank you." I answer calmly. 

"Don't thank me yet, you are a rather difficult patient." He says, smirking slightly. Still keeping it professional. 

Urge to kiss him in that particular moment is strong. But I hold still.  
Urge to kiss him each time he smirks is strong. But I always hold still. 

"I am afraid the time is over for today" he stands up, I admire his long legs, not moving yet. A little more time.  
"Your next appointment is in two weeks, same time. By then I insist you follow the recommended diet plan, and avoid a frequent usage of duloxetine- but in case of severe pain feel free to take it." 

Dulxetine is an antidepressant, sometimes it helps, sometimes not. My eyesight is getting worse each time I take it. But he doesn't know that.

"Okay. I know." I say.  
"What about the acupuncture? When will I have the first session?" I continue. 

"You can expect a call from me this week. I will let you know." He answers. 

"Sure." I stand up. 

"See you soon, take care." He bows a little. We don't shake hands, I don't shake hands.  
It adds to the pain, little.  
He is being so considerable, I wouldn't mind shaking his hand at all. But not now, maybe in the future, I'll hold his hand.  
I bow slightly as well, this is silly.  
"See you soon, dr. Devorak" 

He holds the door for me as I walk out of his cabinet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First chapter from Julian's pow

Ch. 2 

Marque Dahl is an interesting patient, but more than that, an interesting person.   
I would be lying if I say that he is a patient of mine like any other. That statement is far from the truth.   
After checking my calendar this morning, I was pleasantly surprised to find out that he is on my today's list.   
I am not honest again, I knew he was on my list for today long before I checked. He is a regular patient, with irregular case and intriguing personality. You cannot not remember him. 

I'm sitting in my office, he should be here in two minutes.   
He is punctual, always coming on time, never missing an appointment. He also never knocks, which is understandable in his case.   
At first he knocked before coming in, but after I got familiar with his case, I insisted on him to stop doing that. 

Marque suffers from neuropathic pain of unknown cause. He had no spinal cord injuries, is HIV negative, not diabetic. I assumed it's multiple sclerosis, but MRI wasn't positive.   
He is more prone than any other I have ever met, to develop an insensitivity to medication.   
He also strongly refuses any surgical intervention, which I partially understand- given the fact that no previous treatment, in better case scenario, worked. 

I know I am not the first doctor dealing with his condition, and I know he isn't hopeful about me, or his case, at all. He partially gave up any possibilities of easing, or at best, curing the pain which is present in his life every conscious moment. 

I want to help. But it seems to me he attends the appointments purely from politeness, and maybe from his family members insistence. 

Door into my office slowly opens inward. It's time. 

He closes it, after stepping in.   
"Hello doctor, I hope I'm not interrupting." His voice is rather deep today, maybe sore throat? 

"Good afternoon. And of course not, please make yourself comfortable." I point at the dark grey armchair in front of my desk. I always make sure to put an extra pillow on it, but it's not like I'll ever tell him. 

I study his appearance as he moves towards the chair. Today he is wearing black, well fitting jacket with slightly lighter chemise underneath, buttoned all the way up to the neck. I notice that it's dark grey color almost matches the armchair.   
I'm pretty sure he have noticed it as well. I can't hold my smirk.   
Chemise is neatly tucked in the trousers similar in color as the jacket. Noting how finely ironed they are.   
Due the stress he experiences on a daily basis, his hair began to lose pigmentation on his left temple, which is pretty noticeable at the first sight, because his original hair nuance is dark espresso colored, with lighter chocolate hue. 

At first I have wondered why does he keep it short, assuming he must be experiencing great pain while cutting it, but as it turns out, he doesn't experience the pain in the head area so often, which allows him to comfortably cut, and alter his hair according to his taste. 

His stylish, neat looking appearance never fails to amaze me.   
I've seen people suffering from the similar condition as himself, as symptoms get worse- which they do, almost any case- persons psychological, mental health goes hand in hand with the pain, right down the slope.   
People numb themselves with various drugs, usually unable to stay at least partly sane, without their chemical help.   
But as the symptoms progress, and drug dependence gets heavier each time, people, as the general rule goes, end up dead due narcotics overdose. Or commit suicide before such an even occurs.

In Marques case, it's not that simple. He doesn't follow the scenario which I am familiar with. He holds on. 

Admiration is a faraway from describing exactly what I feel towards him, but it is one of the many nous you can give an account of. 

He unbuttons his jacket and sit on the chair, folding one leg above another. 

"How are you doing today?" I ask. Skin on his face is paler than usual. I worry.   
"Good." What a lie of an answer. He smiles and I clench my teeth, I can almost feel his pain. 

"Then lets get started."   
I monitor his condition using evoked potentials, recording responses from cerebral cortex, brain stem, spinal cord and so on.   
There aren't many things I can do for him except prescribing nerve stimulants, Milgamma in his case.   
Previously I thought of giving him injections of deluded Milgamma- which are essentially vitamins B1, B6 and B12, but in a higher concentration and with just the right amount of percentage to provide the body with desired effect.   
If you higher up the dosage and inject it directly into the vein, Milgamma has a prolonged sedative effect, which I at first assumed would be a result both of us can silently agree on. 

When I suggested an application of injection and explained it's consequences within a high dosage range on a persons nervous system, he refused. 

Turns out he knew. He was familiar with Milgamma, and completely aware of it's usage and common side effect. 

I thought I have lost him that day. I never expected him to come back to me after the offer I made. He must have thought I am an awful, not so caring doctor, because the attitude towards me till the end of our first appointment was cold and distant from his side.   
When I gave him request receipt for the various blood tests I needed him to take, and booked our next assignment, I wasn't hopeful he would show up. 

To my huge surprise, he came back, with the blood results, finely dressed, and proposed about his interest in Milgamma- but only as an oral drug. He was willing to give it a try as long as it doesn't effect his consciousness, and perception of surroundings. 

And that was around half a year ago. I can't say there was a significant improvement regarding of his condition, but he reported that his sleep quality got better and that he has more appetite, which is good.   
I can't say he visibly gained weight, though. Maybe a little bit of muscle mass. 

As I tighten the strips around his wrists and adjust the special hat, which are wired to the device, as carefully as I can, we remain silent, and it's making me slightly nervous. 

The communication between us, unlike his condition, improved drastically. He became more open with me, and usually we talk with ease.   
Not today, I suppose. 

"I am about to begin, today we will start with left hand. Please tell me when you begin to feel slight electric shocks in you fingers. I will be, as always, adding on the intensity until I see your thumb noticeably twitch." 

I say, awaiting his confirmation. 

"Sure, doctor, you always say that." He nods and looks at me, for the first time today. 

"Then let's begin." I turn on the device.   
.  
.  
.

Once I finish monitoring him, an hour passes and we hardly exchanged any words with each other. I am not stating there is anything wrong with that, not at all. He is a patient and I am a doctor, nothing more or less, so perhaps it is nothing but wise if we talk about subjects related to his condition only. 

"There seems to be no progression, your nerve responses aren't dulling, meaning your sense perception isn't affected by the neuropathy, and my guess is- it wouldn't ever be. Taking into consideration previous monitoring, which is similar to this one.  
By saying this I suggest we stop with evoked potentials until you notice any difference related to your pain experience.   
Unless you insist on continuation? Which, again, I don't think will be informative." 

"Okay, that's good." He responds, I catch a glimpse of relief on his face. "I am glad you will stop electo chocking me." 

"Yes, it certainly is good." I pause, not sure how to comment the electo chocking. I realize I'm smirking again. 

"But, guessing by uncertainty in the tone of your voice, doctor, it's a dead end now." 

"Well, I wouldn't call it a dead end."

"Really? Is there any medication, anything, that you can think would be helpful?" I can't figure whenever he is sad, or angry, or both. Perhaps neither.  
His voice isn't risen, and his speech is steady. But it still seems to me that his mind is somewhere distant from our conversation, his thoughts aren't reflected in what he is saying.   
It bothers me greatly, not knowing whenever should I comfort him or simply keep it to myself. 

I adjust my eyepatch. 

"I am afraid there are no available anti-inflammatory drugs on the market right now that we haven't tried yet.   
We can try to put you back on Motrion, once your body becomes sensitive to it again. But I must express my concerns that such scenario is highly unlikely to happen."


	3. New body on the scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arsa is in this chapter, and now plot is building

Ch. 3 

Today was so awkward oh my god.   
I think, as I bite into my avocado toast. Did we became more distant? Or no?   
I don't think we became more distant since he offered me an acupuncture, so yeah it doesn't make a sense to assume we became more distant. The opposite happened, I guess. We became more close.   
But the way we became more close bothers me? Because today we were more silent then usual. Was I too silent? We talked normally towards the end, which is a good thing. 

I check my phone in case he wrote me an sms.   
Of course he didn't. It's been only four hours since I left his office. 

As I go though my twenty four missed calls (mostly from my clients), I think - again - if he has any partner.   
And by partner I mean a boyfriend of a girlfriend or a wife or a husband or whatever. All my efforts to find him on ANY social media ended as a total failure. There is no information about his personal life online. Only his medical specs. Things like where and when he studied, other people commenting and discussing his work on a various forums and so on. 

I love avocado toasts. 

Anyways, maybe today wasn't so bad, I am simply overreacting, which I am heavily prone to.   
I put my toast back into plate, my fingers hurt, therefore they involuntary shake. If I don't focus on them not to shake, they usually shake.   
My fingers are prone to shaking more then I am prone to overreacting. 

Okay, back to the inner discussions with myself about that doctor I am so obsessed about.   
Not knowing about his personal life, and more specifically about his relationship status, leaves me pretty stressed out. Not knowing if I have a chance with him leaves me stress out.   
What if he is a "I don't date my patients" kind of person, or worse, what if he is straight? 

I don't think he is, honestly. I'd say my gaydar is advanced and rather well developed. But who knows, who knows. 

day 1. 

Still no sms, and it's past noon now. I am stressed out.   
The client left approximately ten minutes ago but I can't recall what her case was. I wasn't able to concentrate on what was she saying, my mind was somewhere else, my everything was somewhere else. I don't think I spoke once during the sitting with her, she did all the talk but god I can't remember a word she said.   
She left happy, though.

day 2. 

Still no sms, or call. And it's past noon again. I'm stressed out to the point where I can't concentrate on cutting my food properly so my plan is to feed on energy bars for the whole day.   
My legs hurt, and not because I walked a lot today, I didn't walk. They hurt because they are fucked up. The same way as all my body is.   
Sometimes I wish I just didn't have legs, I must admit there were many times in my life where I thought of simply cutting them off with knife, or butter knife, or hacksaw. The problem with legs is that they are wide, they have a lot of space on them.  
Don't get me wrong it's not like I am suicidal or anything, because I am not suicidal or anything. But legs are sometimes such a problem and sometimes they hurt so much I feel like they are on fire and I wonder why me? Why are my legs on fire?   
Well guess what, they aren't on fire. Not even slightly on fire. 

I think about cutting off my legs off as I open a bottle of Dulxetine, as I concentrate on my hands not to shake, as I resist the temptation of throwing all of the bottles content down my throat.   
I swallow one pill.   
I get ready for the next appointment. My next patient should be here any minute. 

day 3. 

Still no sms, or call, or letter. I'm thinking whenever it's past noon, while eating another energy bar.   
I check out my phone. Yes, it is two minutes past noon. I don't have any clients today, and I am not sure if it's okay.   
When I don't work, I think again.   
My legs aren't that bad today, I don't mind them today, plus I'm low key happy I didn't cut them off as I wanted to.   
There is not way I would ever do that. 

Maybe he wouldn't call. I am not naive enough to assume he forgot. Perhaps he simply lost an interest and, in two weeks on our next appointment he will inform that he isn't going to risk his reputation or whatever.   
I still pretty much love him and want him to become my husband and all that, but at the same time I'm supper pissed off about this whole situation.   
He said I should expect a call from his this week. But this week when? On the end of the week? Not the begging as it seems so far.   
Couldn't he be more exact? 

I aggressively chew a last bite of the energy bar, throw away the packaging, pick up the phone again and dial the number I haven't dialed in a while.   
Before I lift the phone up to my ear, I inspect a little crack on the left upper corner of the display. It bothers me a lot, but I still haven't had a time or a chance to do something about it, maybe today is the day. 

"Hello?" Comes from the speaker. I quickly lift up the phone.  
"Well hello there boy." I answer, smoothly, suddenly happy to hear familiar voice.   
"I wasn't expecting a call from you, how long as it been since the last time we talked? Three years?"   
"Yes, Asra, around three years."  
"Oh wow... so? How are you doing? Don't tell me you are calling just for the sake of calling." 

Well, I am indeed calling just for the sake of calling, but it's not like I'll tell him. 

"I'm doing good, and you?"   
"I won't lie, things aren't easy for me at the moment, but could've been worse."   
"Oh? Really? What's up?"   
"Life, life is up." 

Perhaps it was a bad idea calling Asra, tone of his voice isn't bright, and I have a feeling he'd rather me not to call him. Things are weird between us.   
Before I can formulate an excuse to end the conversation, he suddenly continues.   
"But! Please never mind, how about we meet up? I'm curious what look like now."   
What a surprise.   
"Okay, I'd like to meet you as well. But I'm sort of busy tomorrow and then I'm busy for the week after tomorrow." I don't know were am I going with this, I am not busy tomorrow and certainly have time for the following week.   
"Then how about today?" He asks.   
I pause.   
"Today is good."   
"Cool, then how about we meet at the Starbucks, at, let's say 18:00?"   
"Sure, but there are approximately one thousand Starbucks cafes in this city, which one in particular you have in mind?"   
"Hahah, the one on the Lanterns street."   
"Why this one? You live on Lanterns street or something?" It's around an hour ride from my place, close to the city center, with many people moving around in and out of the cafe.   
The opposite of definition of peaceful place to be. 

"Yes, it is quite close to the place I stay at the moment." I knew it, but whatever. 

"Hah, okays. Then it's sealed, I'm looking forward meeting you."   
"Sure, me too! See you soon then, Murqe, I'm glad you called! Bye."   
"Bye bye." I hand the phone and think deeply again whenever I made a mistake or not.   
Asra is a good friend of mine, and we were close, until he suddenly disappeared for a long time, without any warnings beforehand. 

No, I didn't make a mistake. I want to see him.   
I have two more hours to get ready, before we meet. I have to look perfect. 

What should I wear today? Maybe that new, dark navy jacket with red velvet buttons? I brought it one week ago and still haven't had a chance to wear it. But no, I'm saving this one for my next doctors appointment, I need to look TOP every time, with no exemptions, when I go there.   
So for today I'll go with something more casual, let say... a shirt?   
No, that's TOO casual plus I have only two shirts and they are both plain back, and what's worse, both are dirty.   
Shirts are out of question then... 

 

I've spent two hours choosing what should I wear, and sort of lost a track of time and was almost late for my meeting with Asra.   
I made it on time, although ended up wearing that dirty black shirt which I thought was out of question but apparently no, it wasn't.   
It's not like there are any visible stains on the shirt or something, it seems clean, but it has that not so clean feeling to it, and it bothers me slightly.   
But that bothers me way more than feeling of my shirt being no so clean, is that ASRA IS ALREADY 27 MINUTES LATE.   
It's okay if person is one, two, of three minutes late, I don't mind that, no big deal, it happens to anyone.   
But 27 minutes is nine times more than I can tolerate, it makes me wonder what if something happened? Car crash? Death accident? Or maybe he simply decided not so show up? Because something came up? Or he got lazy?   
How am I supposed to know? What adds to my disturbance is the fact that Asras phone if off, each time I call him, I'm being directly let to the voice mail.   
Plus!! He said he said he lives near by, so that the hell?   
I will wait a few more minutes and then leave, I think as I slurp my black coffee that remained untouched until this moment. I will leave once the coffee is finished. 

So I've been drinking this damn coffee for almost 17 minutes until suddenly there is a slight tap on my shoulder and as look up, already knowing who is tapping, I see Asras face hovering over mine, all smiley as if he isn't - I check my watch - 44 minutes late. 

"Hi! Sorry if I kept you waiting, I had some sudden business I needed to take care ASAP" he says in apologetic voice while taking a seat in front of me. Yeah right sudden business my ass, I bet it was something like his snake shredding her skin and he needed to collect it while it's still fresh, so then he can mill it into a powder or something. 

I BET that's exactly what happened, but I don't ask for his confirmation. 

"So I see you already got yourself a coffee huh."   
"Yes that's exactly what I did" I sip. 

He hasn't changed that much, in fact, he hasn't changed AT ALL. Even the way he clothes stayed the same.   
As I can remember from the last time we met, his hair is still the lightest shade of white, wavy as it always has been. Skin beautiful olive, eyes sharp, mindful, but kind at the same time.   
I can't deny I am slightly attracted ho him, but the reality is, who wouldn't be?   
We had a thing for each other before he suddenly vanished... I don't know if his sudden disappearance was anyhow related to our slowly building relationship, but whatever was happening between us is now gone, and I can't see myself being with him in a romantic way. I'm pretty sure he shares my point of view on this one. 

I know he is checking me from the corner of his sight, while studying the menu board above the cashiers register. It's funny how casual we act, as if there is no three year gap between us.   
Today's evening is so random it's making me nervous, my fingers throb, left thumb being the most persistent and intense, I can't help but check it they are still intact, and to my no so surprise, they look completely fine. 

"Okay, wait some more please, I'll go order myself a latte, do you want something?" He is standing back up again. 

Yes, I'd like my fingers to stop hurting. 

"'No, but thanks though". 

My mind is a mess again and it's hard to concentrate on anything, I should be happy reuniting with my old friend but all I feel are fingers. I honestly don't know why or how did they get worse, minute ago they were okay. 

There is another thing that suddenly crosses mi mind, the thing I was successful to avoid thinking about for the past few hours, but failed just now, again. 

Each time they throb I see his face, the patch, the look he gives me each time I enter his cabinet. I realize how sad the whole situation is.   
How kind of pathetic I am rolling my mind over that person while he probably doesn't even- I don't know, recognize me more than just a patient. 

My chain of thoughts is interrupted by Arsa putting down a big mug of latte on the table in front of me.   
And I am honestly happy for that interruption. 

"Soo, that did you get?"   
"Soy gingerbread latte, damn if I had to choose what to drink till the rest of my life, I wouldn't even hesitate with soy gingerbread latte". 

Shuuurrrppp

"I am not surprised by that at all."   
"Yeah I know you aren't." 

He takes another sip, then continues. 

"Thanks for calling me, I wasn't sure I'd heard from you ever again, after what happened..." 

Do I know what happened? 

I remain silent. 

"I am still figuring some things out, but soon I'll be done with them." 

I have no idea what is he talking about. 

"Asra do you realize that your sudden disappearance - without any beforehand warning, left me so worried, I thought you were kidnapped.   
You weren't picking up my calls or answering emails.   
I was literally on my way to the police station when suddenly your SNAKE SLITHERED UP MY LEG with a note in her mouth saying   
I'm okay I'll explain later." 

To my surprise he looks embarrassed, as if he has no words to defend himself. 

"I'm sorry, I should have called you, I should have let you know I'm doing fine... but so many things happened I don't know where to start." 

"Start somewhere." I sound more irritated than I actually am. 

"Okay, so... uh, I got married." 

Shock.   
Shock is what I experience now. 

Punch into the face. 

"But we divorced two days ago." 

Who is that person. Do I even know him? 

"It was spontaneous, the marriage, I mean. And soon we both realized it was a mistake and separated shortly afterwards...   
But around a month ago we decided to do something about it, and make a divorce official." 

I am pretty sure my mouth is gaping because Arsa stops and stares at me. I close my mouth. 

"And when were you planning on telling me this?"   
"Well, soon. I'm sure you know we have a spiritual connection, you called me a day before I wanted to do so myself." 

"Soo... okay, I have so many questions for you Asra I don't know were to start." 

"Star somewhere." He mimics the way I said it a moment ago. 

"Who are they? The person you divorced?" 

Right after I finish the sentence, my phone buzzes slightly.


End file.
